


Dyeing Young

by Mad Poetess (mpoetess)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Fluff, Hair Dye, Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpoetess/pseuds/Mad%20Poetess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meetings in the hair-dye aisle at Wal-Mart. Circa summer after Season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dyeing Young

Sunnydale, California. Wal-Mart. Midnight. Summer. Two girls in the middle of the hair-care aisle, arguing good-naturedly about the colors in which the world gets painted.

Said the redhead: "No, hon, this is as bright as I go. 'Ocean Sunset.' Anything else, and I'll look like a straight-haired version of Little Orphan Annie." She picked up the box of hair color and showed her girlfriend the naked-to-the-shoulders model on the front, who looked far too happy for somebody posing in cold water up to her nipples. You could almost pick out the goosebumps on the woman's skin.

"Yes, she's very pretty, Willow, but I think you'd look great in something a little...redder. You've...got the skin tones to pull it off." The blonde smiled, dark lips curved up in the innocent cupid's bow that was coming ever closer to making the redhead lose all interest in conspicuous consumption at the local retail haven and instead dragging her fellow witch off to some deserted corner to pull off something more enjoyable than a brighter shade of red.

"Well, what about you? You wanna try a new shade? It's about time, isn't it?" Willow fluffed Tara's bangs, which had a good inch and a half of dark roots showing above the ash-blonde.

"I don't know. I kinda like 'Plain Vanilla.' Sounds like me, smells like you... It's my shade. But yeah, it's about time. I'll do you if you do me..." Tara ducked her head when Willow's raised eyebrow communicated exactly what she thought of *that* proposition. "That's n...not what I... okay, it is what I meant, but... first I'll do your hair."

"You get your shade, then, and I'll get some Vaseline and cotton balls." Willow turned to head around the corner to the cosmetics aisle, but was frozen by the sight of a familiar figure in unfamiliar surroundings. Rounding the corner of the aisle, black coat swinging behind him, humming the chorus to "Whiter Shade of Pale..." was Spike.

"And so it wa-as...that later..." the vampire sang softly to himself, scanning the rows of boxes at the terminally blonde end of the aisle.

"Spike?" squeaked Willow, staring at the slender man in the leather duster, who spun around to face the two women with a snarl, then a half-embarrassed grin.

"Red. Fancy meeting you here. And your little... friend. Come to re-visit your roots, as it were? Here's to good times, then." Spike returned his attention to the selection of super-bleachy lightener thingies, tapping a pale finger on the box of "Summer Blonde..." before shaking his head disgustedly.

"Nobody sells plain old dump-it-over-your-head peroxide anymore, do they. No, it's all Maxi-Blonde...Super-Sunny Blonde... Honestly, do I look like a sunny blond to you?" Spike asked, turning back to the witches and grabbing a handful of his short, white-blond hair. Which was, indeed, showing the faintest traces of dusky roots at the hairline.

"No, more like an *ash*-blond," another familiar voice. "Or maybe a *dusty* one." Five-foot-and-not-much-more of Chosen One stood a few feet away from him, just about to enter the aisle. Her hands were empty, but she had that itchy-stake-finger look to her, like she was just *this* close...

Spike moaned. "What.... I can't even go *shopping* without you following me about keeping tabs on me? I'm buying hair-dye, Slayer, not plotting your bloody downfall. I do spend a few minutes away from the drawing-board every so often."

Buffy sniffed. "I'm not following you, I'm..." Then she looked around. Realized where she was and who she was talking to, noticed the friendly witnesses a few boxes of haircolor away... "Okay, I'm following you."

"Oh, c'mon, Buffy..." Willow grinned. "Everybody knows you blea..."

"I do *not* bleach my hair. I maybe... highlight it a little, but that's just to bring out the natural glow..."

Spike snickered. "Yeah. Highlight. Right." He leaned over to the right and pulled a box off the top shelf of L'oreal products. "Champagne Blush, right? Should be enough in there to do the mustache, as well."

The Slayer glared at him. "Oh...bite me, you big bleachy pointy-toothed weirdo."

He held the box above her head. "You want it or not, you little bleachy corset-wearing tart?"

Buffy reached for it huffily. "This is *not* a corset, and yes, dammit, give it to me, 'cause I can't reach that shelf."

Spike dropped the box into her hands with a smirk and returned to his contemplation of the available super-lighteners. The assembled women gradually drifted towards him to peek around at the selection.

"I never thought you were a Miss Clairol kinda guy, Spike..." Buffy jeered. "Then again... I haven't seen Harmony oozing around your crypt recently... Maybe you've gone the other way after all. You lonely for a man, Spikey?"

The vampire just smirked at her. "Hey, I'm an equal opportunity employer..." Paused to take stock of what he'd just said... "Not that I have to pay for it..."

Tara picked up a box of Ultra-Blonde. "This stuff's expensive! How often do you have to do your hair?"

Spike glanced at her. "Every couple of months. My hair grows slower than your lot's. Then again, you look like you've gone a few without it yourself."

Tara shrugged defensively. "Well... yeah. It's a big hassle, so I usually l..let it grow out for a while."

The vampire snorted. "Right. Big hassle. My sympathy, witchy-poo. You try setting your bloody scalp on fire every two months, and then talk about a big hassle."

"Sweet and Low," the Slayer said quietly. Spike turned around to stare at her.

"Do what?" asked the British vamp incredulously.

"Throw a couple of packets of Sweet and Low in the bleach, and...I've heard... it won't burn as much. Not that I've ever bleached my hair."

He shook his head wonderingly. Sweet and Low? Who knew?

Into the coffee-klatch of hair-dyers strode a small, thin girl with a determined look on her face, and no time for chit-chat. She closed her eyes, spun around three times, opened them, and pulled the box she was pointing to off the shelf.

"I always wondered..." Willow said with a giggle. "Hi, Anya."

Anya looked up. "Oh. Hello. Another party I haven't been invited to? I have to go color my hair now, so I can remain mysterious and alluring to Xander. Excuse me." She made as if to walk back out the far end of the aisle, but her way was blocked by a tall form, head bent over a shopping list. Sensing that someone was in his path, he looked up.

"Er...hello. Did someone call a meeting without telling me in advance? Because those sorts of meetings are usually held in my flat, generally when I'm expecting company..." Giles smiled somewhat sleepily at the group.

Willow stared at him. "Giles... not you, too? Say it isn't so..."

The ex-Watcher tilted his head at her. "Not me... oh. I just thought perhaps... something to cover a bit of the gray? Dunno. Never tried it before, really."

She shook her head. "Oh, no. Nuh-uh. That gray stays right where it is. Very...distinguished."

He winced.

"Um... or... sexy?" Tara offered with a blush and a shrug.

"Oh, yeah," Willow smiled. "That too."

Buffy sort of cocked her head at that... Giles? Sexy? Well... no. Eew. Such thoughts do not enter the mind of a Slayer with a hunky ex-commando waiting in the car. Such thoughts are *not* even invited in. Crosses and garlic await such thoughts.

Giles, on the other hand, played with his glasses suddenly, re-settling them on the bridge of his nose, looking more reassuringly Watcherish than ever. "Well...if you lot say so... but really, this is just a meeting of Hair Dyers Anonymous? No dire emergencies of a prophetic nature?"

"Would I be joining the Scooby-Doo bunch if there were?" Spike put in with a derisive snort. "You just hit the black hole of late-night shopping that we've all been sucked into."

"And if you'll all excuse me, fun as this hasn't been, I have to get back to..." Anya began, trying to slip past Giles. "Xander!"

The young man in question looked up guiltily from behind Giles' back. "Um... what?" he rattled off in a jumpy voice. "I wasn't coming down this aisle! Nobody can prove a thing! I'm just looking for the..." He trailed off as he came to the conclusion that fully half the people he knew best were standing in the hair-dye aisle in Wal-Mart, at midnight.

Anya glared at him. "I *told* you not to follow me. Now you've seen, and... oh, dammit, Xander. I can't be with a man who knows I dye my hair. A girl's got to have *some* secrets. This is *over.*" She ran out the opposite end of the aisle, past the assembled Scooby Gang and Spike, who stared after her disbelievingly.

"Who the hell was her *last* boyfriend... Stevie Wonder?" the vampire asked with rolling eyes. "She's been through four shades just since *I* met her."

Xander leaned back against the shelf that held the hairspray and mousse. "Okay...and it's time to re-set the scale on the weirdness meter now...Can't say I'm not a bit...relieved. We've been dating for ten months, and she was starting to go on about mortgages and mutual funds. When she wasn't discussing boils. And making guys into eunuchs. And other disturbing pillow-talk."

Buffy stalked toward him. "What I want to know is...what are *you* doing here, Xander? Did you just show up to prove that yes, Buffy does bleach her hair, or what?"

The tinge of redness creeping over the dark-haired boy's face gave testimony to the fact that it didn't have a damn thing to do with getting confirmation of the freakin' obvious. Willow groaned.

"You couldn't wait another twenty minutes, could you. Then everybody would've been gone, and you could do your thing in complete privacy..." She stomped over to the men's hair color, and pulled a box of "Dusty Sable" from the shelf, tossing it at Xander.

"Wh...what are you doing? I don't..." Xander babbled.

"Oh... I'm sick of it. I've kept your secret since kindergarten, and what's it ever done for either of us, huh? You keep ending up with psycho demon women, and I have to cover for you every time somebody finds a box of dye in your bathroom. 'Oh no... that belongs to me... I was thinking of going darker...' Get a life. Come out of the follicle closet."

Everyone was staring at Xander now, especially Spike, who had an expression on his face that was a mixture of interest and pre-hysterical laughter.

"What is she talking about?" Buffy asked with a jab at the box in his hand. "Xander? Care to enlighten us?"

He had turned the color of a well-grown tomato by this time. "Um...well...I'm a...naturalblond..." he let out in a barely audible whispered rush.

Spike choked on nothing. "You're a *what*?"

"He's a natural blond." Willow stated with a bit of exasperation. "He's been dyeing it since he was *five*.

All eyes were riveted to the young man across the aisle. He shrugged, embarrassed. A little petulant at having been found out.

"Yeah... well... People think I'm an idiot already. They always have. I don't need the added bonus of my hair color shaving off another fifty IQ points in everybody's eyes."

"Oi!" Spike interjected in an aggrieved complaint. "Nobody thinks *I'm* an idiot just 'cos I've got blond hair."

Xander studied him. "Yeah, but you've got the whole dark-eyebrows-scar-accent-cheekbones-leather-jacket thing going for you. It's your look."

Spike raised one of those dark eyebrows, as a bizarre idea flitted though his brain. His look? Xander Harris had been paying attention to *Spike's* look?

"If it helps, Spike, *I* think you're an idiot," Buffy assured him, turning away from Xander and carrying her box of hair color down towards the empty, non-Gilesy end of the aisle. "And this whole thing is getting too bizarre for me. I'm outta here. Riley's waiting, and with any luck, in the morning I can convince myself this was all a dream." She exited the aisle with a swing of her short skirt, and all eyes turned back to Xander.

Giles clucked at him. "Nobody thinks you're an idiot, Xander. A bit of a...well...self-destructive git, at times, but..."

"Gee, thanks, *Dad*." Xander smiled ruefully. "That was totally inspiring. Next week on Confidence-Building with Rupert Giles, you too can learn to make your surrogate children feel both loved and moronic at the same time."

"I don't believe it," Spike said suddenly.

"You what?" Xander asked, swinging his head around to look past the witches at the de-fanged vampire, who was now tossing a box of Ultra-Blonde up and down in one hand.

"Don't believe you're a natural blond. You've got five-o'clock-shadow at two in the afternoon."

"Yeah, well. It happens. Freaky genes. Whatever."

"Bollocks. You just feel left out of the hair-care club. You could go join the mousse-master in L.A, or something, I s'pose."

"No, he *is* a natural blond. I've been helping him do his hair for years..." Willow insisted.

Spike grinned. "Can you prove it, then?" This to Xander, ignoring the red-headed witch.

"Prove it? Aside from Willow's word?" Xander crossed his arms over his box of hair-dye.

"Yeah. Prove it."

The boy smiled suddenly, a sly little twitch that slipped onto his face from one side, slid across his lips, and was gone just as fast off the other side.

"I have the *ability* to prove it, yeah."

"Got the stones to?" asked the vampire, grinning even wider.

Xander seemed to be considering this with great deliberation. Giles was giving his best vaguely paternal 'What am I going to do with this boy' look, and the girls were watching the interplay between the boy and the vampire with barely disguised... something-or-other.

At last Xander quirked up one side of his mouth. "Maybe..."

Spike frowned. "And that means?"

Xander tossed the box of hair color down the aisle at him, and he caught it with supernatural reflexes.

"That means... you owe me a box of hair dye for doubting my word, and I'll be in the car. If you're there in ten minutes, we can...talk about it." The brunet (?) strode around the corner with a cheery "Night, Giles. Witch-ladies," and disappeared.

Spike glanced at his fellow Brit with hopefully narrowed eyes. "What exactly does 'talk about it' mean in American teenspeak these days, Rupes?"

Giles exhaled disgustedly, as if the question weren't even worth answering.

"Right then," said Spike, suddenly purposeful. "Sweet and Low. And..." he caught Giles' eye again. "Er... don't shop here much. Where would the..."

Giles rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Three aisles down, on the wall next to the pharmacy. Not that I have any idea what you're talking about."

"Ta." Spike took off at a rejuvenated pace, hum-singing softly... what.. something about collars and cuffs?

The two girls stared after him.

"Well, at least it's not a psycho demon *woman* this time..." Tara finally ventured.

Willow...had thoughts going through her head. Bad thoughts. Pictures of Xander and...Thoughts that made her want to go back to Tara's room and firmly convince her that "Plain Vanilla" was *not* the shade for her at all. "Um...I'm thinking we should go. Now. Right now. Back to your place. And maybe do our hair in the morning."

She grabbed Tara's hand, and pulled the unresisting blonde down the aisle. "Night, Giles."

"Good night, ladies..." he answered with a shake of his head. He wandered over to the men's hair color, and stared at it for a minute or so, then ducked his head round the end of the cosmetics aisle. "They're gone now. You can come out..."

"Kind of already did that..." replied the slight young man who joined him, running a hand through his vaguely reddish hair.

"Have you chosen a new shade yet?" Giles asked, reaching out to finger the spiky tufts himself.

"Not a lot of chance, with the gang's-all-here being... all-here." The boy shrugged. "I'm thinking maybe blond this time. Seems to be working for Spike."

"Well then. You pick a shade, and I'll... just go see if Spike found what he needed over by the pharmacy...?" Giles said with the same question in his eyes and voice.

The werewolf nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Sounds good. Be there in a minute."

And Oz stood alone in the hair-dye aisle, staring at the abundance of choices. Blond...or blue, even...then again, sable was a nice look too...

**Author's Note:**

> Included here mostly because I'm a completist. The fanon and dialogue cliches, they burn like peroxide. Oh Buffy, how much better I could have done by you.


End file.
